Pour Me All Your Sorrows
by IronAmerica
Summary: There are upsides and downsides to being a Matheson. But Charlie knows her daddy will come home soon. He promised.


Hey, it's a new story. Charlie's sure her daddy will be home soon. He has to be.

Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.

Story may contain triggering content. Please exercise caution while reading.

- o – o -

Pour Me All Your Sorrows

_One_

"I'll be back in a week, Charlie. Can you look after Danny that long for me?"

Charlie nodded, blue eyes wide and earnest. She gave her father a gap-toothed grin as he stood up and ruffled her hair.

"First sign of trouble, you take Danny and go right to Mr. Caleb, okay?"

Charlie nodded again as her daddy shouldered his backpack. She laced her fingers together tightly, doing her best to be just as strong as her daddy. She wasn't going to cry, because he was going to come back. Daddy had never broken his promises, ever. And he _had_ to come back. If he didn't, then her and Danny wouldn't have _anyone_ left.

Daddy wouldn't abandon them like that. He wouldn't go missing like mommy had. He _couldn't_.

Charlie didn't start crying until the door shut behind her daddy. He was gone and he wasn't going to come back because Chicago was so _far_ away, and even if he'd left his special necklace that fixed things with her so he had more than two _really_ good reasons to come home, he wasn't going to come back.

She dried her eyes after a few minutes and went to get bread out of the cupboard. She and Danny would have toast for breakfast. One slice each, though, because this had to last. Mathesons were tough, though. Daddy said so.

So she'd make sure the food lasted as long as possible. Just until daddy got home. Because it had to last.

The food ran out a day before daddy was supposed to return. Charlie had done her best to make sure it lasted, even going without two meals every day. Danny hadn't cried once when Charlie told him they could only have one meal a day, which made Charlie so proud of her baby brother. But the food was gone, and there wasn't any more. Charlie waited until the day after daddy was supposed to come home before she made up her mind to take Danny to the village down the road. Daddy had said Mr. Caleb would help them. Daddy had never lied before.

Except…

Except something had gone wrong. Charlie cradled her wrist, tears springing to her eyes as she stared up at Mr. Caleb's wife. Danny wasn't even trying to stop himself from crying. Both of them were hungry, and they'd only asked for a little bit of food. They could share a bowl of soup, honest. They didn't need that much…

Mr. Caleb was mean. Charlie really did start bawling when he grabbed her hurt wrist a few shades too tight and twisted. She didn't understand. Daddy had _promised_. He had. She heard him promise that Mr. Caleb would help… He'd _promised_…

Charlie took Danny back to their house, still crying as her wrist twinged painfully. It hurt so much. Danny brought a roll of bandages out of the box that daddy said they couldn't open without him and wrapped her wrist tight. He knew what to do. Charlie gave him a one-armed hug and sniffed back some more tears before she placed a gentle kiss on his swollen eye.

"We… We'll get some food tomorrow," she promised thickly.

She hoped she could keep her promise.

Ten-years-old was way too young to keep a promise like that. But she could try.

Couldn't she?

_Two_

Charlie picked up the brush again, scrubbing at a particularly tough stain on the floor. If she got it out before sundown, Mr. Caleb had promised her a half-loaf of bread. It was still there, and it wasn't going away. But Charlie needed the bread. She and Danny had been digging up the carrots in their tiny back garden before they were ready and eating them raw. The same with the potatoes. If she didn't get this stain out, though, she and Danny were going to bed hungry. Again.

Like usual.

Daddy had been missing for three months. Charlie refused to believe that he wasn't coming home. He'd promised to come back, and she still had his magic necklace. He'd _promised_.

Charlie groaned in frustration as she heard the door open and the tread of heavy footsteps coming towards the room she was working in. Mr. Caleb was going to be so mad with her…

The ten-year-old bit her lower lip and furrowed her brow in concentration, trying to make it look like she was occupied in her work. Sometimes, Mr. Caleb kicked her if she wasn't working. She tried hard, really. It was just hard to stay on her hands and knees all the time, and her back got achy and she just needed to sit up and relax for a few minutes…

Her stomach growled loudly as the sound of paper tearing off of something—probably salted beef, since it was market day and some men from Chicago came with lots of good food from the city—and then the sound of paper being crumpled up. Danny was outside, carrying heavy baskets of produce for the village. Charlie wished she could trade places with him. He was too little to carry that much, especially when neither of them had eaten today.

Mr. Caleb had _promised_ though. He had. He'd promised to give them bread. His wife made really, _really_ tasty bread, and even if it was a day old, it was still a feast for two hungry siblings. Charlie tried not to picture what Mr. Caleb and his family would be eating tonight. They'd probably have stew, with carrots and peas, and the last of the spring tomatoes, and it'd have that salted beef in it too… And they'd have biscuits or bread of some kind to mop up the last of the broth, and—Charlie knew from the one time she and Danny had been allowed to have dinner with Mr. Caleb and his family—there would be some kind of sweet, delicious fruit for after dinner.

Charlie wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, trying hard not to cry. She wouldn't get any sympathy. She had to get the stain out of the floor, or she and Danny would be hungry again.

The stain stubbornly refused to leave until well past sundown. Charlie left the house with no bread, head reeling from hunger. She pulled Danny off the stoop and towards the gates of the community so they could walk back home.

The ten-year-old tried not to smile as Danny handed her the uneaten part of a half-rotted apple. At least it was something.

_Three_

Charlie hid in a far corner, curled up in fear. Strange men had come to the village. Mr. Caleb had grabbed her and Danny away from their chores and shoved them down the basement steps. Charlie had no idea what had gone wrong. She'd only been cleaning his boots, like he'd told her too… Had she and Danny done something wrong?

Danny was curled up next to her, breathing heavily and wheezing. He wasn't supposed to be in the basement, where it was dank and dusty. It was bad for his asthma. Charlie tried to keep him calm, but it was dark and he was scared—they both were—and it was just making his asthma worse. The siblings curled up close to each other for warmth and comfort. If Charlie concentrated really hard, she could hear people thumping around upstairs. Something smashed, and she jumped, whimpering a little.

Time passed, probably a lot of it. Charlie had fallen asleep by the time Mr. Caleb came down with a lamp to get them. Charlie held her hands up to shield her eyes, frowning in concentration so she could look at the village mayor. He looked…concerned.

"It's too late to walk back," Mr. Caleb said gruffly. "Come upstairs. There's soup for you and your brother." He left, and Charlie had to wake Danny up quickly so they could scramble after Mr. Caleb before he shut the door on them.

There was the soup on the table, as promised. And bread—fresh, just out of the oven. Charlie bit into it, trying to restrain of moan of pleasure as the flavor rolled over her tongue. She wolfed the soup down, mopping up the last traces of the tomato paste with her slice of bread. Danny had finished his in record time too, and had even licked the bowl to get the last traces. Mr. Caleb's wife was there, kind of glaring at them but not. Charlie washed the bowls carefully, and then the spoons. She peeked over at Mr. Caleb's wife through her hair, and felt a small ball of warmth settle in her chest when she saw the approving smile.

Danny had fallen asleep by the time Mr. Caleb had brought down blankets and pillows from the nice rooms upstairs for them. Charlie struggled under his weight, but managed to get her little brother over to the nest of blankets in the front room anyways.

Mr. Caleb was a nice man. He was just…difficult to please.

Wasn't he?

_Four_

It's been two years since daddy went missing. He's not dead. He's _missing._ Charlie keeps her calendar on the wall of her side of the room she shares with Danny, adding a tally for every day that daddy has been gone. He'll be back soon. He promised.

Daddy could come back today, because it's her _birthday_.

Like the last two years, Charlie isn't expecting anything different. Nothing good's happened the last two years. But Danny will probably sneak over to her wall and draw a cake for her, and then lie about being there. He's a good baby brother, even if Charlie thinks he's annoying sometimes. He's the only person left who actually cares about her, though, so he's alright. She does kind of like it when he draws the birthday cake on her wall for her.

There's a list of chores she has to complete for John, one of Mr. Caleb's friends. It's tacked to the wall by the door, so she doesn't forget it. Charlie shoulders her bag of boot brushes and her sewing pack, making sure that Danny has his things and his list of chores as well. Nothing is going to be different today. It's just going to be chores, and maybe getting kicked around.

The strange men who come twice a year should come on her birthday. Charlie likes them—their appearance means she and Danny don't have chores, and Mr. Caleb feeds them really well. The rest of the village is afraid of them, though. When she's old enough to take Danny and run away, she's going to join the Monroe Militia. It sounds nice. One of the boys said they took all the food from the village to feed the Militia. If they take all that food, then they must have enough for two siblings who don't even eat that much. Charlie would make them take Danny too, even though he's too little.

Charlie shares the last piece of bread with her brother, both of them chewing slowly to soften it up and to trick themselves into thinking that they've got more than they actually do. It…

It kind of works. That's what matters to Charlie.

There's a new man in the village. He's rather large. Charlie bets he's never missed a meal in his life. But he… He's different. It looks like he actually _cares_. But he's probably not, so Charlie just looks away and goes to find Mr. John so she can clean his boots and scrub his floor. He has chickens. If she finishes by lunchtime, he usually gives her two hard-boiled eggs. Today, that would be a wonderful treat… Charlie gets the boots and sits on the steps of Mr. John's home, scrubbing at a particularly hard patch of dirt on the toes.

Across the village square, the large man is talking animatedly to the other children. He's holding a book in one hand, and gesturing wildly with the other. Charlie pauses in her work to watch. After a few minutes of half-hearted scrubbing, she puts the boot down and creeps over to listen. The man is talking about something in the book. A girl in it has red shoes and a beautiful blue dress, and she's in a land where there are people who are very tiny. Charlie sits down to listen, because the story sounds nice.

She jumps when the man asks her her name. She… Charlie flushes red in humiliation as one of the boys says she's nobody. She just cleans and does chores for the village. She doesn't need a name. But the man just glares at the mean boy, and asks her again.

"Ch…Charlie," Charlie whispers shyly. The man's name is Aaron. He's a teacher.

After the lesson is over, Aaron gives her a small package. Charlie scurries back to Mr. John's house and scrubs his boots as quickly as she can. She doesn't finish scrubbing the floor in his common room and kitchen until dusk. Danny's finished scrubbing Mr. Caleb's house by then too, although he's got a new bruise on his side.

Charlie opens the package that Aaron gave her when they get home. She bursts into tears. Resting in the center of the paper are four neat, perfect squares of salted beef.

Later, as she finishes her piece of birthday beef, Charlie prays that Aaron continues to be so generous.

Someone has to be. Right…?

_Five_

Charlie knew that, if Mr. Caleb called her upstairs when she had chores at his house, he was _really_ unhappy with her. Sometimes, he called Danny upstairs. Charlie tried so _hard_ to make sure she and her little brother did their chores correctly and in a timely manner. She did. She always did. But…

But sometimes, she couldn't. That was when Mr. Caleb called her upstairs.

Charlie didn't like going up there, even to clean. Because Mr. Caleb's room was up there, and sometimes he was too. The thirteen-year-old wished her daddy would come home soon. When he did, she'd tell him about how Mr. Caleb spanked her until she couldn't walk, and then made her take her clothes off for him. Daddy would kill Mr. Caleb, and he'd take her and Danny away to Chicago, like he'd always said he'd do.

Daddy was going to come home soon. He would. Charlie concentrated on that and how he'd make Mr. Caleb sorry he was ever mean to her and Danny. Because daddy was big and strong, and he promised to protect them. He was going to come home soon, and then she'd never have to go upstairs with Mr. Caleb again. And daddy would hit Mr. Caleb for her, and for Danny, and…

Daddy would be home soon.

He _promised_.

_Six_

Charlie curled up on her side of the nest of blankets she shared with Danny, trying hard not to cry. Winter was setting in, and it was very, very cold outside. She and Danny still had to walk to the village every day, but it was getting so cold without shoes or coats… She just wanted daddy to come home. It had been almost three years. He'd promised he'd be home soon…

If he came home, he'd bring shoes, and a pretty dress for her and a big coat for Danny. He'd bring good food too. Daddy was going to come home soon…

Danny crept back into the house a few hours later, clutching something under his shirt. Charlie was always scared when he did that. If Mr. Caleb found out that Danny was stealing food, they'd both get in trouble. He'd caught them once. Danny had had to go upstairs with Mr. Caleb. Charlie had scrubbed the floors downstairs, crying and trying hard to pretend she couldn't hear Danny crying and screaming and begging Mr. Caleb to just stop…

But Mr. Caleb catching them stealing was still better than anyone else… Sometimes, if they'd apologized the right way, Mr. Caleb gave them a bit of food. Once, he'd given them a smile _and_ food. Charlie treasured those moments. Mr. Caleb _never_ approved of them. Ever.

Charlie sat up, wincing as her back began aching again. Her feet hurt too. She'd light a fire so the room would warm up, but they needed to save the firewood for actual winter, or they'd freeze. Charlie knew she could go to Mr. Caleb for help, but… But Mr. Caleb's help was expensive. Charlie didn't want to go without food for two months because she'd traded it for a week's worth of firewood for her and Danny instead. She couldn't do that to Danny, even if she was supposed to look after him.

Danny passed her a piece of stale bread, already working on his. Charlie smiled grimly. Bon appétit.

At least it was food, even if it was disgusting. Food was food, and she was hungry.

That didn't even bother her much anymore.

At least it was food…

_Seven_

Charlie stared glumly out the window at the snow. It was _way_ too high for her to be able to go to Sylvania Estates. She'd never get her chores done. There would be no food until the snow cleared up. She sighed. Well, she and Danny had survived before. Maybe if she tried really hard once a path was cleared and did her chores extra well, Mr. Caleb wouldn't be _too_ mad with them. Last winter, he'd only kicked her twice for being late because of the snow. He could be _much_ worse.

It was her fault she wasn't better at travelling during winter anyways. If she tried harder, Mr. Caleb wouldn't be so mad with her.

The thirteen-year-old sighed and went back to the nest. Danny was curled up on his side, fast asleep. He snuffled occasionally like he was about to cry, but Charlie understood that. Danny was probably hungrier than she was. He was so little, even for a ten-year-old. It didn't help that the other boys picked on him all the time. Danny tried _so hard_ to be good and get his chores done on time. The other boys just kept making more work for him.

…Not that Charlie was going to fault them for it. They weren't doing anything wrong. Really. It wasn't their fault that their boots got so muddy, or that they sometimes tracked it all over the floors she and Danny worked so hard to keep clean. They just…didn't think, was all. Charlie was _sure_ they appreciated her and Danny, when they did a good job. Really. They _had_ to… Didn't they?

She sighed again and went back to the door. If she figured out how deep the snow was, she'd be able to figure out how long it would take her and Danny to clear a path so they could get to work. Charlie opened the door and squealed in surprise as snow spilled in, covering her toes in cold powder. That was when she saw the pack resting on top of the drift. It bulged in odd places and was rather heavy when she picked it up. The thirteen-year-old shut the door tightly against the snow again, sighing as she realized there was no way she'd get the snow cleared, even _with_ Danny's help.

And then she opened the pack and spilled the contents out.

Her crying woke Danny up from his fitful nap. He started crying too, although he was at least coherent enough to pick up the note to read it.

Charlie pulled her brother into a tight hug after he finished. She'd completely forgotten about Santa Clause and Christmas.

Someone still cared about them.

_Eight_

Charlie coughed, a deep hacking sound from low in her chest. She sniffed a little, but that made her headache worse. The thirteen-year-old pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear, wishing she wasn't so dizzy. She had to finish sewing this dress… She just wanted to sleep, just for a few minutes.

She didn't remember when she'd gotten so sick. But it was just getting worse and worse. Danny was even giving up his share of the food so she could have something with actual substance in it. Charlie wished she could refuse, but Danny wouldn't hear of it. He really was a good baby brother.

The teen coughed again. The needle in her hands slipped and jabbed under her thumbnail, drawing blood. She sucked her thumb into her mouth, eyes welling up with tears. Three tiny drops of blood dotted the yellow fabric, marring it. Charlie scrubbed uselessly at the drops of blood, trying to make them go away. If she weren't so sick…

Charlie trembled as she heard the door open. It was probably Joan, come to check on her new dress. Charlie was trying so hard… She just needed to sleep, just a few minutes. Really. Then she could finish the dress and Joan could be pretty when the soldiers came, and maybe one of them would like her. Charlie just wanted to sleep. Who wanted to be pretty when they could have food and a nice house and people who cared about them?

She jerked awake as Joan grabbed her hair and pulled, _hard_. Charlie whimpered, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. She'd only dozed off for a few minutes. She was just so tired, and everything hurt…

"You ungrateful little wretch," Joan snarled with a sneer, glaring down at her. Charlie looked away, feeling miserable. She was trying so hard. Why couldn't anyone tell her she'd done a good job, just once?

If daddy came home, like he promised he would, he'd tell her she'd done a good job—cleaning, and cooking and sewing and polishing boots, and taking care of Danny—and he'd give her a hug. And, while she was dreaming, he'd give her a big bowl of ice cream, like she'd had when she was _real_ little.

Joan left her alone after a few minutes. Charlie bit her lip and concentrated on finishing the hem, instead of the stinging pain in her scalp and on the side of her face. She coughed again, feeling miserable.

Charlie didn't even realize she'd actually fallen asleep over her sewing until Joan's father slapped her awake. Charlie blinked up at him muzzily, trying to clear the cobwebs out of her head. She'd fallen asleep on the dress… The teen whimpered in fear, trying to crawl away from the man. She fell to the floor, still whimpering in distress as he scowled down at her, holding up the ruined fabric for Charlie to see. By the time Danny came to get her, Charlie wanted to die.

Her brother tucked her under the thickest blanket in their nest and curled up next to her, running his fingers through her hair.

It wasn't much, but it was the best either of them could do.

_Nine_

Someday, Charlie was going to murder Danny, and she'd do it with a smile on her face. Really. She would. In this case, though, she'd let it slide.

She and Danny hadn't eaten in two days. They'd made do by making a soup out of grass and some wild strawberries they'd managed to gather on their way home from Sylvania Estates, but it was disgusting and hadn't lasted long anyways. Charlie was pretty sure they'd both been desperate enough to start eating grass again when Danny had snuck off instead of doing his chores. Caleb had been very angry with her. She'd gone upstairs.

Danny had crept back into their run-down house after sundown, nursing his own bruises. Charlie had examined them closely, frowning when she didn't recognize the imprints of the boots on his sides and back. Danny had been in too much pain to tell her what had happened, but he'd given her the food he'd stolen. There was corn, and strips of dried venison, and fruit, and even a tiny packet of _real _sugar. Even Mr. Caleb didn't have sugar!

Charlie tried hard to pretend she didn't approve of her brother stealing food, no matter how hungry they were. Mr. Caleb would give them food if they worked hard enough and did their chores correctly. He _always_ looked after them. He just… He was very strict, and had high standards for her and Danny. But he'd never not kept his promises. Charlie knew that.

But Danny had brought back so much good food. They'd have a feast every night for the next three weeks on this.

She didn't really approve of him stealing, and she'd kill him for it someday, but…

But sometimes, it was just nice to not have to worry about having enough to eat.

_Ten_

Charlie lay on Mr. Caleb's bed, eyes closed tightly. If she pretended she was still asleep long enough, he'd leave her alone and she could sneak out of his house. She could maybe make it back to her home, and she could scurry up to the dilapidated upper levels of the house and scrub in the cracked, broken tub until her skin peeled off and she was shivering and blue with cold.

She _hated_ being called upstairs. It wasn't fair. She'd cleaned those floors really, _really_ well this time. She _had_. And then Mr. Caleb's son had tracked dirt all over the floors and the carpets just before his father had come home for lunch. Charlie had been looking forward to getting a bowl of soup to share with Danny.

Instead, all Mr. Caleb had seen was dirt tracked all over his common room and kitchen. Charlie had been sobbing and scrubbing hard at the dirt, trying to get it all removed as quickly as possible. Mr. Caleb had screamed at her, and slapped her into the side of the counter, before telling her to go upstairs.

Mr. Caleb sat on the bed next to her, and Charlie worked hard to keep the grimace of fear off her face as she rolled closer to him as the mattress dipped. His hand, large and warm and kind of moist, rested on her hip. She shivered under the touch, unable to stop herself from whimpering softly. He just kept his hand there, not really doing anything.

"Clean the sheets and remake the bed," he ordered, standing up.

Charlie waited until he left before she curled up on her side and began bawling.

_Eleven_

Aaron was nice enough. He never yelled at them, or hit them. Sometimes, he shared his food. Charlie supposed that, for an adult, he was alright. When she'd finished her chores early—or at least faked it so that no one could really tell the difference—she got to sit outside his home with the other children and listen to his lessons.

Sometimes, he pretended to get really angry with her—and Danny, when he was there—and made them stay after. Charlie knew he was just pretending, though. He was a nice man. When he pretended to be mad at them, he kept them over at his house and made them lunch, or dinner, or both if they were _really_ lucky. He also taught them to read and write.

Charlie thought it was weird that he always pulled the curtains shut before he brought out the chalkboards and lesson books for her and Danny, but brushed it aside. He never raised his voice, and he was very nice. Aaron was alright. Charlie liked him. Once in a while, he'd ask to borrow them for chores, and make them tea instead, and would just let them sit on his couch and relax. Charlie had done his laundry for him a few times, just to make it look like she was actually doing work for him. She didn't want him to get in trouble for being nice.

Danny liked him too. Aaron was nice to both of them. He'd even bandaged a cut on Danny's hand once. Charlie wished more of the people in the village were like him.

Maybe then it wouldn't be so bad.

_Twelve_

Charlie remembered what having a real family was like. One with parents, and uncles, and little brothers that had friends to play with. A real family had ice cream, and food, and…

And uncles with red cars that played music.

When daddy had left for Chicago four years ago, he'd left his picture book behind. There weren't any words in it, but there were lots of pictures of him, and mommy, and handsome princes in uniforms. Charlie knew they were princes because they dressed _way_ nicer than anyone—even the Monroe Militia didn't have uniforms that nice. (And they stunk. Really bad.)

Both of the princes looked kind. One of them was hers and Danny's uncle. He was the one with the red car, which was probably what princes drove all the time. Although he might have a red horse now, since cars didn't work anymore.

Some days, when she had had enough food to eat that she fell asleep and had good dreams, Charlie thought about the prince and his red car that played loud music. Sometimes, the prince came charging in on his red horse and beat Mr. Caleb up, and then took her and Danny away to his castle in Chicago, where no one would hurt them again.

She didn't get to have those dreams very often. Mr. Caleb wasn't bad. He really wasn't. He was just strict. Charlie knew that if she and Danny tried just a little harder, he'd be good to them. Really. He wouldn't even call them upstairs, and he'd give them soup and fresh bread. They could go sit outside Aaron's home and listen to him tell stories.

Charlie just needed to figure out how to make Mr. Caleb happy. She tried really hard. He wasn't a bad guy. He was just strict.

But some days, Charlie dreamed of princes in red cars that came to take her and Danny to castles in Chicago.

- o – o -

So, what did you think ? Good? Bad? Think Charlie and Danny should catch a break really soon? Drop a line and let me know.

Author's note: You can blame Steph-Schell for this. It's her fault.


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